


So it goes

by antiva



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, extremely self-indulgent drunk writing, this makes no sense and i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiva/pseuds/antiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief glimpses into Keith's thoughts as time goes by. Starts when team Voltron does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So it goes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very much not sober right now and I really, really hope this won't be any more embarrassing in the morning.  
> Enjoy.

**One day in,**  
you look at Lance and see everything you lost, everything you worked for and sacrificed, and you try to hate him. You try, and you tell yourself you succeed when another one of his obnoxious laughs cuts through your train of thought. He looks at you like you're a challenge or a rival or both, like life didn't have to kick you down for him to rise up.

 

**One week in,**  
you work in harmony when focus on the battle takes away all your other feelings, and the team fights as one. You see into each other's heads, and don't, and it's like stepping a foot into cold water, but you do it anyway.

Sometimes, he thinks of home, and you catch yourself longing for something you've never had. Sometimes, he thinks of you, and this is when you cut yourself off.

 

**One month in,**  
his eyes reflect the stars as he finds you in the control room, staring, thinking. All five of you have learned to keep a casual connection by now, and the vague emotions sent from one to another are comforting just enough not to be a burden. 

He finds Earth on the map of the universe, and you didn't come here to look at it anyway, so you lose all interest and end up looking just at him. You've long given up on hating him. He's not a friend, but he's more of a home than Earth ever was.

 

**Two months in,**  
another planet you've freed does not help the fact that you feel caged. Humans are not meant for this, you know, humans are not supposed to live with six friends in a closed space with no other casual contact at all, but you also know this is not why you're troubled.

You've had to avoid sharing your feelings for a while. Not because they're wrong, but because the purpose of your actions has been too singular to be good to the team as a whole.

Protect Lance – is what your instincts have turned into. And while you've long divided your duties as a team, all of you protecting the one who needs your strengths most, they don't need to know the reason you fight so aggressively – they don't need to know that, at the end of the day, the only thing that calms you down is brown skin and blue eyes, the first shiny with sweat after battle, the second sparkling with joy.

 

**Three months in,**  
you don't remember when you last thought of him as an object of hate. You don't remember the last time he did something to upset you, rather than make you laugh, at the universe and at yourself.

You don't remember what it feels like not to feel warmth exploding in your chest each time he looks at you, or what it feels like to not have a home.

The team is your home, and Lance is where your heart lies.

 

**Four months in,**  
you kiss him in the control room, and who knows how many times you've come here, how many stars you've seen, how many jokes you've told – they all blur into some sort of a string of regular bursts of unidentified hope, and this is what you were hoping for all along.

There are more stars in his eyes than on the giant map in front of you. He smiles, and you're pretty sure a supernova explodes in your heart for a new star to be born.

 

**Five months in,**  
Lance gets stuck into the damn healing pod again, for long, too long, and you let yourself selfishly think you're the one with bigger injuries. Your heart feels colder than the ice Lance is surrounded by.

When he stumbles out, you tell him you love him, and god, you do.

 

**Six months in,**  
you don't remember the last time you slept anywhere else but his room, and woke up to anything else but his arms holding you like you're the most precious thing in the entire universe. 

 

**One year in,**  
it feels like you've been here for centuries, but you'd agree for centuries more if it meant the red lion always had the blue one at its side.

You end up in the control room again, a tradition long forgotten amongst the busy days; Lance finds you, of course he does, and the hand he puts on the small of your back is worth more to you than your life ever was.

 

**Two years in,**  
you get to visit Earth, at last, and Lance's family greets him with tears bigger than the oceans you've seen across the universe. You stay back, respectfully; he took you here, with him, because you had nowhere else to go - but you know if you did, you'd still take this over anything. You never say that aloud, though.

When they stop crying for long enough that he can introduce you, he says, “this is my other half,” and you feel like you're going to burn to ashes as they nod and smile, accepting you as family. Their faces are different, but you see Lance in all of them, and all of them in him, and you know this is where you're going to belong long after everything loses its meaning.

When night comes, your first one on Earth in a long, long time, he smiles at you sleepily and tells you how his heart is in one piece now that he brought you here. You smile back.

 

**Five years in,**  
you feel like the fight will never end, but you'd rather keep on fighting forever than give up for a second to lose sight of Lance.

You tell him that much, and, in a quiet murmur, he suggests a competition – who can fight longer, wins. Before you can reply, he puts a finger to your lips to make you quiet, and says he will personally beat the shit out of eternity twice; then, he laughs, and you laugh, and you think that maybe those five years changed nothing at all.

 

**Ten years in,**  
you close your eyes and the last thing you see before falling asleep are stars reflecting in Lance's irises. 

Perhaps the war will never end, but you know you won the battle that matters long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a longer Klance fic I've got in the making, but I guess this tiny embarrassing thing was meant to be here first. So it goes, yeah?


End file.
